07-06-2013, 07:24 PM
Friday night, Jim and Sera get text messages from Hawksley, or Davie, or whatever they've put him in their phones as. Well: Friday night is when he sends them. When the Seers receive them is really up to the Seers. It's entirely possible they got them before he sent them, but that's why they study Time and he doesn't.
Anyway.
Burnout named Kelsey w/ me in the Four Seasons (IKR?). Coming down off some Time-and-Space-altering shit, requesting backup plz+thx.
A few moments later another text appears for both of them:
Either of you know some fucker named Byron?
--
Kelsey is, in fact, sleeping at the Four Seasons. The beds are large and soft, the robes are -- as promised -- super fluffy. She's not in Hawksley's suite, naturally, nor is she in Collins. He has a certain responsibility to Collins not to let him be inadvertently wounded by some burnout tripping on supernatural substances, so Kelsey has her own room. Kelsey was put to bed with her clothes on and her shoes off, and every so often, every four hours or so, Collins uses the second key and checks in on her. He has been a servant all his life; he has a servant's gift of silence and stealth, and the greatest disruption he causes her is to make sure that she has a glass of water at her bedside.
In his own suite, Hawksley plays Xbox. No: he doesn't have one, he isn't renting one from the hotel, and that isn't what he'd be doing anyway. He does what he does most often.
He studies. Sometimes he has to send Collins to the storage unit to get him another book from one of the boxes, and he does this in the middle of the night, and it's an opportunity to berate Collins for not getting them a house yet sometimes, but other times he merely opens the door, takes the book, and shuts the door again in the face of the person who is closest to him on this gods-forsaken planet.
The housekeeping staff is not allowed in this suite. Collins takes care of all that. They would be disturbed, after all, to find the sitting room area cleared to the walls and an enormous circle drawn with sea salt on the carpeting, particularly given the symbols surrounding and filling that circle.
It's about four in the morning, one night, when he calls Collins from two rooms down and declares that he wants a slate floor. Somewhere in the house. Up high preferably. He doesn't fucking care, he just likes chalk better than salt. Jesus. Is it that hard to find a house with a slate floor?
Hawksley hangs up and goes back to work.
Anyway.
Burnout named Kelsey w/ me in the Four Seasons (IKR?). Coming down off some Time-and-Space-altering shit, requesting backup plz+thx.
A few moments later another text appears for both of them:
Either of you know some fucker named Byron?
--
Kelsey is, in fact, sleeping at the Four Seasons. The beds are large and soft, the robes are -- as promised -- super fluffy. She's not in Hawksley's suite, naturally, nor is she in Collins. He has a certain responsibility to Collins not to let him be inadvertently wounded by some burnout tripping on supernatural substances, so Kelsey has her own room. Kelsey was put to bed with her clothes on and her shoes off, and every so often, every four hours or so, Collins uses the second key and checks in on her. He has been a servant all his life; he has a servant's gift of silence and stealth, and the greatest disruption he causes her is to make sure that she has a glass of water at her bedside.
In his own suite, Hawksley plays Xbox. No: he doesn't have one, he isn't renting one from the hotel, and that isn't what he'd be doing anyway. He does what he does most often.
He studies. Sometimes he has to send Collins to the storage unit to get him another book from one of the boxes, and he does this in the middle of the night, and it's an opportunity to berate Collins for not getting them a house yet sometimes, but other times he merely opens the door, takes the book, and shuts the door again in the face of the person who is closest to him on this gods-forsaken planet.
The housekeeping staff is not allowed in this suite. Collins takes care of all that. They would be disturbed, after all, to find the sitting room area cleared to the walls and an enormous circle drawn with sea salt on the carpeting, particularly given the symbols surrounding and filling that circle.
It's about four in the morning, one night, when he calls Collins from two rooms down and declares that he wants a slate floor. Somewhere in the house. Up high preferably. He doesn't fucking care, he just likes chalk better than salt. Jesus. Is it that hard to find a house with a slate floor?
Hawksley hangs up and goes back to work.
my whole life is thunder.